


Three's A Crowd

by HannahLydia



Series: Kinktober '18 [5]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Belts, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Jealousy, Kinktober, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Post-Canon, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Spitroasting, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 04:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16190174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannahLydia/pseuds/HannahLydia
Summary: "Okay, Jack," Rhys submitted. There was something about the way he smiled - as if whatever it was, even if it was crippling punishment, he was up for it. The way he held his breath, the way his eyes darkened... it was like a signed and delivered letter of consent."... then after that?" He prompted, raising his chin. "Then what?"Some Rhackothy for the 'spanking' and 'spit-roasting' prompts, day four of Kinktober '18.





	Three's A Crowd

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, typed up exclusively on my phone's memo app so hopefully it's all good. 
> 
> Jack is an asshole, but what's new?

 

 

 

Jack hated the way they looked at each other sometimes. Not that he was _jealous -_ hell no - he had nothing to be jealous _of_. If Tim and Rhys wanted to make goo-goo eyes at each other then that there was their own damn business, he wasn't into all that sentimental crap anyway. All that lovesick puppy stuff? Nosiree. Still, whenever his doppelganger smiled that goofy smile of his, staring at Rhys with such dreamy wistfulness, Jack felt the need to backhand the look right off of his face. So _what_ if he wasn't the mushy type? That didn't mean someone else had the right to gaze at his boyfriend like that, did it?

Again: he wasn't _jealous_ _,_ but he'd be damned if Rhys was going to decide that the grass was greener with a cheap knock-off.   
_Cheap_ _. Heh_ _._  
Tim had been far from 'cheap' - that plastic surgery had cost a pretty penny and so had his student debts, but the fact remained that Jack was the Real Deal, and Tim was nothing more than an imitation. That was the _point_ _._ It was why he was here in the first place.

In his arrogance, Jack saw his doppelganger as just another extension of himself, a mirror image (granted a mirror image from the past) and therefore just another tool to rope into the bedroom. Sometimes he forgot he was an actual person, with actual thoughts and actual feelings, and it was moments like this when he was sorely reminded.

Tim could screw Rhys all he liked as long as it was on Jack's terms, but if he thought for one _minute_ that this arrangement meant more than that then he could take a walk.

_By all means, Tim-Tams, bone my Rhysie to the moon and_ _back._ _Just don't get any smart_ _ideas_. _Jus' don't--_

_\--_ fall in love with him.  
Judging by that soft look in his eyes and the way he gently nosed Rhys' cheek, it was probably too late for that.

Scowling so hard that it made the hinges of his mask hurt, Jack cleared his throat. Loudly. The other two men were too wrapped up in their own little bubble to notice, and that only infuriated him even more. He had to do it a second time, more obnoxious, more irritated, before either of them came back to themselves and turned to look at him.

Jack's eyes were blazing, but he feigned a nonchalance that he didn't feel.  
"Forgettin' something?" He asked, mock-pleasantly.

Tim had the good sense to look embarassed, if not fearful for his life. He fell back into the bed pillows, putting some distance between himself and Rhys. As much distance as you could get from someone who was lying on top of you, at least.

Rhys, on the other hand - he had been caught mid-laugh, apparently at some private joke Jack had been left out of. When he caught his boyfriend's eyes his expression sobered, focused. The good humour remained intact on his face, which then lifted into a smile. It was cliche as hell, but it was the smile Rhys reserved just for him. Well _shit_. And here he'd almost _wanted_ to hold a grudge.

"Hey," Rhys said, reaching out for him with his flesh hand.  
Like a spoilt child, Jack pretended to ignore it, even though it was obvious he had glanced at it first.  
"'Sup," He replied dryly, first shooting Tim a scolding look before running a hand back through his hair. "Soooo if you two idiots are done makin' out or-- whatever it is you're doin', y' think you might be able to fit _me_ into the equation?"

Rhys blinked once, twice, seemingly startled. He didn't appear the least bit sorry. "I-- guess I thought you already _were_ in the 'equation'?" He replied frankly, shrugging his shoulders. Then, lips curling into a smirk, he tried again to reach for him. "You know, a little voyeurism, Jack?"

"Harr harr," The CEO resisted, narrowing his eyes. His casualness was wearing thin. "Watchin' is only fun for so long, sweetheart,"

Until this point Rhys had been straddling Tim, the doppelganger's hard-on resting against the cleft of his ass. Now he clambered off of him, awkwardly moving on his hands and knees over to where Jack was perched on the edge of the bed.  
He picked up one of the older man's hands and raised it to his mouth, turning it over as he kissed it from front to back. When he selected Jack's thumb as his next target, drawing it to his lips, Rhys ensured to hold Jack's gaze for every second of it. Closing his mouth over the digit and sucking seductively, he gauged his reaction with attentive eyes.

_Cute, Rhys. Cute... but not enough ._

"This your apology?" Jack asked aloud, maintaining the stoic set of his jaw. 

A look of concern flashed across Rhys' face. His cheeks were hollowed, staring up at him in open confusion beneath those long lashes of his. When he drew back, his eyebrows knotted low over eyes that attempted to search his. "And I owe you one, do I?"

"You freakin' both do,"

Tim looked _very_ anxious now. From his position further back on the bed he sat up on his elbows, the very picture of nerves. He practically screamed _please-don't-hurt-me_ with his eyes.

_And why is that, buddy?_ Jack wondered, looking his body-double up and down over Rhys' shoulder.  _Because y'know you fucked up, don'tcha? Y'know you revealed just a lil too much back there_ _. And what about me, huh? Where do y'think_ ** _I_** _figure into things?_

Underneath the heat of his gaze, Tim wilted. He quickly averted his eyes and gulped.

Admittedly, Jack liked to be feared, but he also quite liked to be loved in his own way too. There was something satisfying about having a select-few who were loyal, who he could count on, and who would love him even if for the sake of it. Now the only two people he had left in the world were both openly uneasy around him. Normally he might find that _hilarious_ or choose not to notice out of sheer pigheadedness. Right now however? He did notice. The two-against-one mentality felt tangible, pushing him to the outside again. He didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit.

_So what_ ** _do_** _you want, wise guy?_ The voice of reason asked. Ah _,_ the infinite question, the one he had no fucking answer to.

Sighing raggedly, Jack rolled his eyes. "Don't-- get your panties in a bunch, kiddos," He barked, snapping his hand free from Rhys' clutches. "Daddy just wants to get in on some play-time too. Christ, you're not on _death row_ or anythin',"

Tim gulped once more, and Jack found himself reading him like a book. From the skittish back-and-forth of his pupils to the way he kneaded his temple, he could practically hear the " _aren't we?"_ loud and clear.

Jeez, what was wrong with this guy? Couldn't he just play it cool for one minute?  
Once upon a time Jack thought he'd hired a half-decent actor, but this kid couldn't act his way out of a cardboard box.  
What did Rhys _see_ in him anyway, if he saw anything at all?

Suddenly Jack was mad at them again. Mad at them for being all cuddly with one another, mad at Rhys for acting as if they had done nothing wrong and mad at their subsequent weariness of him.  
So what-- was he the bad guy in this scenario now? Where were their contented looks in _his_ direction, huh?

Jack's lips twitched, wrestling with himself for a minute. He considered grabbing Tim, nude and snivelling, and chucking him out of the apartment. Amusing as it was to imagine him streaking through Old Haven and the badlands of Pandora, he realised he didn't actually _want_ that. Tim wasn't the problem. If he had been, Jack would have put an end to their sporadic threesomes weeks ago. He also considered storming out, but had the horrible feeling no one would follow him, and that would only turn him against them both.

No, no - he still wanted to have fun here, he just wanted their undivided attention. Besides that, he wanted an apology. After a moment of silent reflection, he figured he might know how to get both of those things.

Jack feigned a big, wide smile, but it didn't touch his eyes. Snapping his fingers, he got up from the bed and stood with his hands on his hips, looking over at them both. "Tell y'what, why don't you turn those little asses of yours around, huh? Lemme give you boys a hand. You'd like that, right?"

While Rhys' head didn't move an inch, he nevertheless followed Jack with his eyes. He might not have known it, but he was pouting. It wasn't one of his sweet, submissive ones either - he was suspicious, eyes narrowed.

_What are you up to, Jack?_ That face asked. _I know you better than anyone_ _. I_ _ **know**_ _that this is a_ _game_ _now_. _What're you hiding?_

Tim, however, was much more easily fooled. He glanced at the back of Rhys' head first, seeking answers but seeing nothing there to convince him otherwise. Then, re-focusing on Jack, he meekly raised his hand. "I....I would?" He volunteered, speaking with an upwards inflection as if not entirely sure of himself.

Judging by the way his lips subtly parted, Rhys must have been surprised by Tim's response. He kept a close eye on Jack, frown deepening as he attempted to pick apart his smile for clues. He knew he was up to something, he just didn't know what.

"A _hand_?" Rhys repeated, flatly.

_Yeah, 'a hand', cupcake._ _A freakin' hand across that smart ass of yours. Maybe later you'll get one on that cute little cock too, if you're a good boy. If you remember just who the fuck you should be making eyes at._

Lust passed across Jack's face like a cloud, hot and heavy. At the sight of it Rhys soon stopped searching for answers, instead he sucked in his bottom lip and bit down gently. A wordless moment passed between them, like some kind of thought-transferrence or telepathy. Which was absurd, of course, because neither of them were psychics. And _yet_...

"Okay, Jack," Rhys submitted. There was something about the way he smiled - as if whatever it was, even if it was crippling punishment, he was up for it. The way he held his breath, the way his eyes darkened... it was like a signed and delivered letter of consent.  
"... then after that?" He prompted, raising his chin. "Then what?"

_Oh, Rhysie, you little tease..._

Jack's cock hardened, wanting the fuck that look right off of his face until he was begging for more.

"What _ever_ you want, princess, This is all about you, kiddo,"   
_And me_ _. Because, I mean, bein' the hero and all-- it's_ ** _always_** _about me_ _._

Rhys and Tim both seemed appeased with that. It was either Jack's words or the very obvious erection standing proud between his legs, but either way they seemed game.

Both of their gazes had subsequently dropped to his groin and, again, Jack could see the proverbial wheels turning, feeling like a damn mindreader. If he was hard like that then he couldn't be mad, right?

_Ohhh, kiddos, come on_ _,_ he thought, grinning darkly. _I'm as sadistic as they fucking come_ _._

He thought they both knew that. It was a fact of life - like birth, death and taxes. The sky was blue, and Handsome Jack was an asshole. 

Finally, Rhys turned to look at Tim. They both hesitated, but not for long. On all-fours, the two of them quickly got into position side by side, presenting themselves in deference.

At the sight of their asses in the air, Jack released an appraising but crude wolf-whistle. "Nice view..." he teased, and meant it. Some of his anger had cooled off - losing its edge - at their obedience. So ready and eager to submit to him? They'd gained some points back for that.

Pacing at the foot of the bed, Jack examined them both. They were close enough together, hip-to-hip, that he could probably jerk them off one in each hand. Y'know, if he was good at multi-tasking. Like a dairy farmer on speed.  
He could finger them both nicely too, and the idea was suddenly so tempting that he gave into it, surprising himself.

He retrieved the lube and pumped a wad down the crack of both of their asses, watching it seep, listening to them suck in breaths expectantly.

Sneering, Jack pushed the first two fingers of his left hand into Rhys. He waited for the incoming gasp, the moan, and for Tim to begin trembling with anticipation before pressing the index finger of his right hand into his body-double.

The two men both heaved with a sigh, their breaths subsequently hitching, catching, coming shorter. They weren't quite in tandem when they thrust backwards to fuck themselves on his fingers, but that was ok, it made Jack's motions feel less mechanical. The last thing he wanted right now was to feel like an accessory or an automated machine for their pleasure. 

"See, kiddos?" He jeered huskily, pushing his fingers in to the hilt. "Isn't it a hell of a lot more _fun_ when you just lemme take care of you both? Huh?"

There was a bitten-off moan from one of them. He suspected Tim, but he wasn't entirely sure.  
On his left, Rhys began nodding gently.  
"Y-Yes, Jack..." He replied for both of them; it was apparent from his tone that he was smiling as he said it.

Tim, on the other hand, was too busy moaning. Jack slipped another finger into him, and curled them both upwards, beginning to knead him from within.  
The body-double arched his back, quivering from head to toe.

Jack soon began pumping his fingers in and out of both of them, thrusting them hard enough that they slapped wetly against them.  
"That's right..." He continued, hovering over the two men with a contorted expression that was neither a smile nor a frown. "And wouldn't you prefer it like this, huh? The three of us... jus' having a good time? No _cliques_ _._ None of that lovey-dovey bullshit. No _muscling in?"_

He withdrew his fingers sharply then, and Tim made a sound like a fearful squeak just as Rhys let out a low mournful moan at the absence of his touch.

_What's that ol' saying?_ _He_ _giveth_ _and he taketh_ _away?_

Slipping his belt out from his pants on the floor, Jack half-expected for them both to scatter at the sound. After all, he made no attempts to disguise it, the metal buckle rattling noisily. And yet neither man moved. He wouldn't have put it past Tim to forget that he was already undressed, but Rhys? Were they just naive, in their own little worlds and mistaking the sound for him stripping? God, was his cock at full-mast _that_ forgettable?

Jack folded the belt in half before snapping it in the centre, cracking it like a whip.  _That_ got their attention.  
Instantly Tim started, tensed up, and threw an anxious look over his shoulder. "W-W-Wai--!"  
Without waiting a beat, Jack drew the belt back and slapped it hard across Tim's backside.  
His doppelganger shrieked, pitching forwards mid-scurry. " _F-Fuuuck_ \--!"

Rhys, on the other hand, hadn't moved a muscle or even turned to look. If his eyes so much as widened, Jack couldn't tell from this angle. The only thing he saw was the way he tilted his ass, displaying it higher.   
_You knew this was coming_ _._ Jack realised with certainty, arousal coiling within him at the thought. _You knew it and yet you didn't warn_ _'im._

Rhys' breathing was laboured with expectation, a moan sliding past his lips. The sound was almost lost beneath a string of Tim's expletives, and yet Jack had _heard_ it. The kid knew full well he was about to get spanked within an inch of his life and yet he was _submitting_ to it.

Jack felt a growl rising within him, catching it before it could escape.   
_That's my boy_ , he thought with twisted affection _._ Then, as if rewarding him and not punishing him, the belt came down on Rhys next. This blow was harder, faster, the slapping sound echoing throughout the room. An angry red stripe remained on his boyfriend's ass-cheek, and yet Rhys only made a sound in his throat and clutched onto the bed sheets tighter.

Doubled over beside him, Tim hadn't noticed Rhys' apparent enjoyment of their predicament. He was too busy trying to scrabble away - trying but failing. Jack had a firm hold on his ankle now and was dragging him back towards him.  
"J-Jack...!" He sobbed as he went, clawing at the sheets. "Jack, I'm s-sorry! I'm so sorry, please--"  
Ah, who needed a belt? Jack dropped the long strip of leather and instead drew back his hand, smacking Tim hard enough to leave the imprint of his palm.

"What are y' sorry for, TimTams?" He asked, raising his voice over the sound of his cries. "Y' don't _like_ this? Come on-nn, Rhys could take this in his _sleep_ ,"

As if to prove a point, he drove his hand across his cheeks a few more times until Tim's rear was red and inflamed, the body-double half-gasping, half-moaning with each spank.

_"_ J-Jack..." Rhys now, except his tone was hoarse with lust. "Jack, please..."

"You both got somethin' to say to me? Huh?" Jack barked down at them both. He backhanded Rhys the way he knew he liked, the way that made those peachy cheeks of his ripple.

Tim's voice rose in pitch, almost comically high. "We're s-s-sorry...?" He cried out, trembling from head to toe. Now he no longer sounded so frightened, so upset. There was a waver in his voice, but Jack couldn't put his finger on what that meant.

"For _what_?" He demanded instead, his palm colliding with the red rash forming on Tim's behind.

"Ah!! F-F-For--"

 Panting heavily, Rhys interrupted Tim, saving him from himself.  
"For leaving you out, Jack..." He answered, both submissively and correctly. Because _that_ had been the real bone of contention after all. It wasn't that they had been making eyes at each other, but because they hadn't been sharing that with him too.

"Th-Th-That's it?" Tim whined. He turned his head, trying to look at Rhys beside him. " _Th-That's_  what this is about?"  
Jack imagined his body-double was slack-jawed. He spanked him hard again, only this time Tim laughed through it, hysterical, exhilarated.

"You gonna do it again?" Jack asked them both, the growl back in his voice. 

"No, Jack,"  
"N-No, sir,"  
Came the earnest replies.

Clapping the palm of his hands across both of their rear-ends simultaneously, Jack then began working his fingers back inside Rhys once more. _Favoritism_? Maybe just a little.

He leant over him, getting as close to his ear as he could manage. "What do you want, pumpkin?" He breathed, three fingers within him now, spreading him open with them.

"Haaa... B-Both of you," Rhys managed, shuddering and bowing his head forwards. His ass may have been singing from pain, but he nevertheless thrust back on Jack's fingers.

"Yeah?" Jack purred, splaying the fingers within him. "Well, right now my dick wants your hot little mouth around it. Think you can handle that?"

Rhys groaned, nodding emphatically. "... H-Hell yes,"

Somewhere beside them, Tim writhed and let out an expectant moan. He began smoothing his hands over his sore cheeks, testing to see if the skin was broken. There were no cuts or welts to find, just the burning and throbbing surface of his skin. 

When Jack turned his attention back on him and said his name suddenly, Tim froze in place, yelping.  
"Y-Yeah?" He replied on automatic, mismatched eyes gazing back up at him. There was no abject terror there anymore, just typical Tim and his typical nerves. If he truly begrudged Jack for the spanking then he couldn't register it in his face.

Jack was grinning easily once more, slipping his fingers free from Rhys. "I think a certain someone here needs a good dicking," He offered, running a hand over his boyfriend's backside. "I take it you're up for the job?"

Tim - the very man who wore his unscarred, unmasked face - stared wide-eyed for a moment, doing a stellar impression of a goldfish as he opened and closed his mouth.  
" _J-Job_?" He finally repeated. With that, all the nerves flushed out of his face. He smiled freely, letting out a breath like a sigh. "Oh God, Jack, I'll do it for _free_ ,"

 

* * *

 

 

"Shit, Rhysie..."  
Jack looked down at where his boyfriend was busy giving him a trophy-worthy blowjob, carding his fingers through his hair and making low grunts of pleasure as he did so.

Rhys was a mess. His long, thin body was covered in a sheen of sweat, hair mussed completely out of it's usual style, and the lower half of his face was wet with spit. 

He seemed to take everything that was being thrown at him with ease, but then, Tim was being more or less gentle with him. If Jack had taken up the rear, Rhys would be completely out for the count by now.

_And you wanted a blowjob? A freakin' blowjob?_  
Whatever. It may not have been Rhys' tight hole, but this was right up there on the list of Rhysie's Best Blowjobs.

Panting and driving his dick deeper into the younger man's mouth, Jack looked up at Tim opposite him. His body-double had been uncharacteristically quiet, if not mute, and if Jack didn't know any better, he'd say he were too frightened to enjoy it.

_Where the hell did he get_ _**that** _ _idea from? Oh. Wait, that--_ _ha. I guess, that'd be from me._

For what felt like the tenth time that night, Jack rolled his eyes.  
"What's the matter, sweetheart? You in a silent movie over there?" He asked, one hand fisted on his hip.

As if waking up from a daydream, Tim gave his head a little shake and flushed a bright, bright pink. "N-No?" 

"Then make some freakin' music, handsome,"

Hesitating, as if trying to read between the lines, Tim ultimately decided that this wasn't a cruel trap. He released a pent-up breath, looked down at the curve of Rhys' spine and moaned loudly, driving his hips a little faster.  
"Aaahh...!"

"Thaaa-aat's it, handsome,"

Trailing his fingers through Rhys' hair, Jack looked down at him with a satisfied grin.  
"You're doin' real good, cupcake. How you holdin' up?"

Rhys didn't have the strength to raise the arms that were supporting his upper body weight, though he'd attempted to free one for an 'ok' gesture with his thumb and forefinger. Instead he drew back to Jack's glans, enough so that he could nod and moan a more cohesive yes without withdrawing completely. Just when he was midway through thrusting his head forwards to take Jack deep once more, Tim slammed in with unexpected tenacity. 

Rhys' throat went slack all of a sudden, and Jack sunk in all the way, a hand slipping down to the back of his head and holding him there.

"Ohhh, fuck, that's--!"

Rhys was making gurgling noises.

"Feels soo-hooo good..." Tim moaned, sounding like a teenager on prom night. It was the same boyish tone of voice they had tried to train out of him, the one that couldn't flirt for shit or take a compliment without swooning.  
Normally Jack found it incredibly embarrassing. So why was it so damn _attractive_ right now?

" _S_ _o_ good, kiddo..." He echoed. Relaxing his hold on Rhys' head, Jack slipped out of his mouth long enough for Rhys to gulp down a lungful of much-needed oxygen, before he began thrusting back into that delicious throat of his.

Matching Jack stroke for stroke, Tim began pounding Rhys more or less in time with him, upping the ante.

"Oh, fu-uuck..." They cried simultaneously, the same voice at different pitches layering over one another.

This time, when Tim looked up at Jack with a dazed but serene smile, Jack found himself grinning back.  

Fuck it. Did it really matter if Tim had a shred of- of ' _feeling_ ' for Rhys? So long as they remained like this, the three of them, what harm could it do? Tim knew his place. Besides, he was right where he could keep a damn eye on him. 

_Famous last words, Jack..._

Maybe so. But with Tim picking up the slack at one end, and Rhys looking up at Jack with wet, heavily-lidded eyes, it was hard not to be suckered in.

_Well. You know what they say, don'tcha? 'Three's a crowd', an' all that._  
Good thing Handsome Jack liked to have an audience.


End file.
